The Black Eagle
by Dragonanzar
Summary: A kind of songfic: a French song interwoven with a Harry Potter one-shot. Abuse, rape. Not for the faint-hearted. You don't need to understand French to be able to read this fic, but it helps.


This is a song by a woman called Barbara. As far as I know, she doesn't use her second name in connection to this song, at least. It is in French, but I hope the meaning will still come across for those who do not speak the language.

I obviously don't own either the song or Harry Potter. You can try suing me, but don't expect me to turn up on the court date.

**Warnings**: rape, abuse. You have been warned.

Enjoy, but bear in mind the reality that inspired both the song and the fic.

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_Un beau jour, ou peut-être une nuit, près d'un lac je m'étais endormie_

I lay in the dark and cramped space staring up at the faint rays of light that streamed through the steps of the stairs above. Was it day? Was it night? Who could tell? I certainly could not; my spirit as trapped in the darkness as it is.

_Quand soudain, semblant crever le ciel  
>Et venant de nulle part, surgit un aigle noir.<em>

Footsteps thumped above me, travelling from my head to my feet. They came around and stood before the entrance to my cell.

_Lentement, les ailes déployées, lentement, je le vis tournoyer  
>Près de moi, dans un bruissement d'ailes<br>Comme tombé du ciel, l'oiseau vint se poser._

The door was ripped open and the daylight was swiftly blocked by the flesh that clothed the man's bones. With a deft and practiced movement, the man grabbed my ankle and wrenched me out of my sanctuary; exposing me to the cruel and merciless daylight.

_Il avait les yeux couleur rubis et des plumes couleur de la nuit  
>A son front brillant de mille feux<br>L'oiseau roi couronné portait un diamant bleu._

My Uncle's face purpled and his fist clenched so tightly the skin turned white. Explosions of pain made me writhe and cringe. All too soon, that stage passed and now my Uncle's face changed shade. The sweat beading on his brow faded away, leaving a strange smell. A familiar smell.

_De son bec il a touché ma joue, dans ma main il a glissé son cou  
>C'est alors que je l'ai reconnu, surgissant du passé, il m'était revenu.<br>_

Covering my body like a blanket, the man pinned me down and snuffled and snorted near my ear. His blubbery lips fastened themselves on mine, even though I tried to turn them away. Where his chest touched mine I could feel the pounding of his heart. It increased and mine increased in sympathy. He moved against me, his hand forcing mine against the hardness hidden by cloth. But this was only the beginning.

_Dis l'oiseau, ô dis, emmène-moi, __retournons au pays d'autrefois  
>Comme avant, dans mes rêves d'enfant<br>Pour cueillir en tremblant, des étoiles, des étoiles._

As more pain exploded and I heard, and felt, his sour breath panting past my ear, I turned my face away and set my spirit soaring away from my body leaving it cold and lifeless.

_Comme avant, dans mes rêves d'enfant  
>Comme avant, sur un nuage blanc<br>Comme avant, allumer le soleil  
>Être faiseur de pluie et faire des merveilles.<br>_

I dreamed of a land where my parents were alive. I dreamed of a place which only ever had stars, sun and white, fluffy clouds. I reached for the stars and heard them singing in this land where miracles could come true.

_L'aigle noir dans un bruissement d'ailes, prit son vol pour regagner le ciel.  
><em>

The man lifted himself up, spent. He kicked me into the cupboard and woke me from my dreams; dragging my consciousness back to reality. His stomped passage back up the stairs shook dust down on my unresponsive body.

_Quatre plumes couleur de la nuit, une larme ou peut-être un rubis  
>J'avais froid, il ne me restait rien<br>L'oiseau m'avait laissée seule avec mon chagrin.  
><em>

I lay there in the cupboard with only my shame and grief. No dignity, no honour, no love, no hate, no nothing. I touched my forearms and saw the four new dark blue shadows that marred the white skin. I felt wetness on my cheek and when I touched it, my hand came away with a dripping red tear. I drew myself up and shivered, ignoring the pain. I felt cold and dirty. My white skin seemed to me to be stained with grey, red and black.

_Un beau jour, ou peut-être une nuit, près d'un lac, j__e m'étais endormie_

One fine day, or perhaps night, near a lake, I was sleeping,

_Quand soudain, semblant crever le ciel  
>Et venant de nulle part, surgit un aigle noir.<em>

When suddenly, like a crack across the sky, a black eagle soared; it came out of nowhere….

_Un beau jour, ou peut-être une nuit, près d'un lac, je m'étais endormie_

One fine day, or perhaps night, near a lake, I was sleeping,

_Quand soudain, semblant crever le ciel  
>Et venant de nulle part, surgit un aigle noir.<em>

When suddenly, like a crack across the sky, a black eagle soared; it came out of nowhere….

_Un beau jour, ou peut-être une nuit, près d'un lac, je m'étais endormie_

One fine day, or perhaps night, near a lake, I was sleeping,

_Quand soudain, semblant crever le ciel  
>Et venant de nulle part, surgit un aigle noir.<em>

When suddenly, like a crack across the sky, a black eagle soared; it came out of nowhere….

The cycle goes on and every time I am left a little more broken, a little more hardened…. I just wish that someone would come and see my pain… would help me without judging… would give me faith in humankind.

Please….

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The last few lines are not religiously translated; I wanted to get some of the poetry into the translation which might not have worked so well with the direct meaning.

I hope you enjoyed it. The composer was abused and raped by her father in her childhood and so this is her story as well as Harry's. If you wish to put another character into the 'I' position, feel free, but it was written with him in mind. If you have never heard this song before, I would advise you to look it up on Youtube – sung by the composer, mind. I don't think the other versions carry as much meaning as the original.

I didn't want to translate the song because it is so poetic and beautiful as it is. If you would like to translate it, I would advise you to ask a French native speaker rather than going to a translation website; the internet sites are notorious for creating meanings completely unintended by the writer.


End file.
